Topic: Lost

Author: Chris Dunn

Perhaps it is my angle as I stare from a safe distance, or the overarching canopy of the trees all around us, but the square hole in the building’s free-standing foundation seems to allow no light to penetrate – a yawning black abyss of unknown. The stone slab is the closest thing to civilization I’ve seen in hours, a sure sign that at least at some point people had to have been here. That hope drew me in, but there is no salvation here other than what might lie undiscovered below. On shaky knees, I inch closer and closer as Curiosity duels with Fear until Reason finally wins out.

Reason: “What good thing could possibly be down there? A working phone? A helpful, kindly hermit? The best you can hope for is a disappointing nothing. Just say that’s what you found and move on. Don’t forget, you’re ten years-old, and you’re lost in the woods.”

Turning away, the forested hills surrounding me don’t offer much better in the way of options. They are a bland map of repetitive and aimless certainty.

Curiosity: “Pick a direction and wander. They’re all the same when you’re lost. The hole is at least unique. Surely, whatever is down there is superior to continually roaming about. And can you bear not knowing. Just a quick peak…”

I turn back to the stygian rectangle.

Fear: “Spiders, snakes, killers and foul odors. A bear. A bobcat. A pool of brackish, stagnant water. Any kind of wild animal!”

Back to the hills and brush.

Reason: “These woods are filled with your fellow campers and councilors. If you keep moving, you’ll eventually have to find someone. Someone is surely looking for you. You’re a kid for christ-sake!”

The game is called foxes and hares. Half the kids are prey and half predators. We, prey animals, were given a ten minute head start to hide somewhere in the vast woods that surround the camp, and then on the whistle the foxes were loosed and the hunt was on. Pretty straight forward, sort of a primal variation of hide and seek. Those of us who complained about being hunted were assured that the next time, we would switch roles. Then the clock started and Panic supplanted Reason.

Panic: “Mustn’t get caught!”

At first we flee in packs, Instinct tells me that this is sound strategy, safety in numbers. Each fox can only capture one hare, as long as we outnumber them, the odds are in my favor. This proves fun and profitable for a while, but as the game wears on, and our numbers dwindle, my tiny “pack” of four feels like slim armor against a pursuing band of three. This is where Logic comes up with his great idea.

Logic: “Ditch them! The same math that guarded you when the pack was large, will work in reverse now the pack is lean. Why should the foxes break off and chase a lone hare down into a ravine, when the main pack was still on the trail. They’ll chase the bigger meal more certain to catch something.”

I drifted toward the back, waited for the foxes to close, and then cut sharply downhill. Off-trail the going is rougher, footing less certain, but my plan proves sound. No longer feeling their breath on my neck, I pause against the brace of a tree to look up and see my former pack mates getting overtaken. No pursuit comes my way. I am safe. And alone…

Doubt: “And that how you got us in this mess! You and your big ideas. Win the game, but get eaten by bears. Good going, Logic!”

Hunger: “We’re going to starve out here.”

Fear: “What happens when night falls?”

A whistle was supposed to sound to call us in after a half hour of this fun, if brutal, activity. I haven’t heard a whistle, or another human in what feels like hours. The trails crisscross and backtrack over the hills in a maze of confusion. Reason and Intellect try to keep me going in a single direction, arguing that to be the most sound plan.

Doubt: “Unless you started off picking the wrong way, then you’re just getting further and further from help. Don’t you think if there was help in this direction you would have found it by now?”

Reason: “Turning around will take twice as long just to get back to where we were.”

This silences Doubt.

Hope: “What’s that sound!”

Hurrying toward the noise, the forest thins at a chain link fence. Beyond it stands a two-lane highway followed by a mirror fence and more forest. Hope dances in my brain. Reason counts off the various blessings this means.

Reason: “Roads mean civilization. Roads mean people. Fences mean containment. We can’t have wandered too far…”

Doubt: “You can’t climb this fence!”

Fear: “Your pants will snag on the barbs, and you’ll die suspended by your ankles!”

Doubt: “What are you going to do? Flail your arms to flag down a random motorist. Hope they stop to aid in your plight.”

Fear: “Strangers are dangerous.”

Reason: “There aren’t any cars coming anyway. We’ll just follow the fence as best we can. It’s the closest we’ve come to civilization since the hole.”

Curiosity: “I wonder what was in there….”

The thick and random nature of virgin forest doesn’t allow for me to keep the fence immediately at hand, but I wander as close as possible keeping it on my left side, the road beyond like a river which must eventually lead me back to life. Cars are sparse. As each one passes, Doubt and Fear argue pros and cons, though they keep switching sides. My legs ache, and burs cling to my clothes and hair in the hundreds, but in the end, it is Stubbornness who wins the day. One of my oldest and loudest voices, he often poses as Confidence.

Stubbornness: “I will find my way out. I don’t need any help. I will keep moving forward and everything will work out.”

And he’s right! Eventually the forest thins. To my right I see building through the trees and take the chance to leave my blacktop river behind.

Fear: “But strangers!”

Fatigue: “Fuck that! Let them eat me.”

Coming around the first building I not only find people, but MY people. Amazingly, my cabin mates are right there, sitting at picnic table doing some inane craft project. They spot me as I wander out of the woods. I am certain I look like Grizzly Adams after my lost hours in the wild, but they know my face and greet me with wonder. “There are people looking all over for you.” “Where have you been?”

“I was lost,” I tell them. But never alone.